


Stay the Black

by OlwenWhiteTrack



Series: Always Red [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Graphic Description, Graphic Imagery, Mild Sexual Content, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Obsessive Behavior, Sexual Tension, Violence, enemies to reluctant allies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenWhiteTrack/pseuds/OlwenWhiteTrack
Summary: This is the second installment in the Always Red series.You are an ex-Jedi traveling with ex-Inquisitor Cal Kestis on a road of murder and mayhem in this Fallen Order AU. What's the difference between justice and revenge? You and your crew walk the fine line of it and together you grow and change for better and worse."Clouds of red dust fill the air when the Pursuit touches down. The sun is setting and in every direction the world is lit up in your favorite color. As you connect with the ground for the first time you feel that this is a place you have visited many times in your dreams. Strength and connectivity move up through the sole of your boot and spreads in your body like a fresh breath, filling you with a relief you hadn't known you were in need of. It's a feeling of returning even when you've never been to Dathomir before today. Coupled with the wave of comfort is the slight hum of a headache blossoming in your skull...or is it nausea in your stomach?“Can you feel that?” Cal asks with a mighty exhale. “The dark side is strong here.”
Relationships: BD-1 & Cal Kestis, BD-1 & Original Character(s), Cal Kestis/Reader, Cal Kestis/You
Series: Always Red [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047709
Comments: 45
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well hi! 
> 
> Thanks for checking out Stay the Black! Feedback is always appreciated and if you'd like to reach out to just say hey please don't hesitate to do so here or on my tumblr [droidrights](%E2%80%9C)
> 
> Enjoy!

Dathomir.  
The planet looks both dead and vibrant simultaneously. The surface is covered all over in vast harsh plains of cracked dry earth where nothing lives, peppered with swampy riots of marshlands thick with aggressive lifeforms. Every visitor here arrives beckoned and yet wholly unwelcome. The place is a thriving paradox that thrums with the living Force.

Clouds of red dust fill the air when the Pursuit touches down. The sun is setting and in every direction the world is lit up in your favorite color. As you connect with the ground for the first time you feel that this is a place you have visited many times in your dreams. Strength and connectivity move up through the sole of your boot and spreads in your body like a fresh breath, filling you with a relief you hadn't known you were in need of. It's a feeling of returning even when you've never been to Dathomir before today. Coupled with the wave of comfort is the slight hum of a headache blossoming in your skull...or is it nausea in your stomach?

In the distance you hear the chitter of small creatures and you feel their eyes on you. When you look there's nothing there but a few tumbling pebbles. In your mind the image of the glowing white eyes of the creatures you've seen in your dreams is conjured. They would be right at home here.

It makes you jump when Cal appears suddenly beside you. He takes a big long drought of air into his lungs and stretches his arms wide, bathing himself in the light of the setting sun.

“Can you feel that?” He asks with a mighty exhale. “The dark side is strong here.”

“Ah, that's what that is.” You answer sorely, massaging your temple. “It's gonna be dark soon. I'm gonna look around and make sure it's safe to camp here.”

Remnants of a thriving world stretch out before you. Dilapidated sandstone buildings haunt the horizon with walkways fallen into disrepair that creak and sway in the wind. The village's remains are ghostly now, abandoned. 

You've heard the stories. Everyone's heard stories of the witches that came from Dathomir and of the Nightbrothers that served them. But like the Jedi, the Nightsisters did not survive the clone wars. This planet is their graveyard, maybe even this city. 

“Let's eat outside.” Cal says excitedly. “I'll make a fire.” BD-1 appears on his shoulder and chirps merrily in agreement, he loves fire.

The little droid has shown to have more in common with your crew than you expected from Eno Cordova's trusted friend, to say nothing of having a screw or two slightly loose. They're excited to be off the ship and so are you. It's been a long journey and you're all ready for what's next.

After dinner you and the boys sit in contented silence, listening to the far off cacophony of Dathomir's nightlife. It sounds like nights on most wild planets though some cries are louder, more ferocious and sadder than that of Kashyyyk and certainly Bogano. Still, nothing too alarming and that's a good sign for your first night here.

Nothing beats the feeling of a full stomach, especially with the heat of a warm fire on your face. Your simple supper consisted of the last porridge packets left in your ship's rations. A basic meal but after your time in the fortress you are not picky about what you eat. You pat your belly and lean far back on your pack, luxuriating as Cal scrapes the bottom of his bowl loudly. 

Your eyelids are growing heavy and you can feel yourself starting to doze until Cal exclaims so suddenly that you bolt upright and nearly out of your skin. 

“I almost forgot!” He's rummaging through his pack as your blood finally starts pumping again.

After a few moments and a short string of curses he produces a crinkled sleeve of cookies, half gone and halfheartedly twisted off at the top. He wags it back and forth at you victoriously. 

“There are still some sweet-sand cookies left.” He's already tearing into the weak plastic wrapper sending a spray of stale crumbs into the fire. “Two each.” 

“Nice”.

You sit up fast enough to catch the underhanded lob of cookie. One falls on the ground but you scoop it up and blow off the dirt before stuffing the crumbly sweet into your mouth. You ponder and chew in amiable silence.

Tomorrow you'll scout the area and see what the land has to offer. You know already that Cal is itching to find and take down the biggest strongest animal in the ecosystem. Hopefully, it's something that's good eating.

The fire pops and spits as it spreads over a surprisingly damp branch and a spark lands on BD-1's head. The droid has been inching closer and closer to the flames, hypnotized.

“Hey, take a step back, little droid, you're gonna melt your circuits.” Cal's voice is stern but he's smiling because he can relate to the allure, he's a moth too after all.

BD-1 protests and kicks his little legs when you scoop him up with one hand and plop him down a small distance from the fire. He's hot to the touch and comes forward a few small steps from where you placed him, a compromise. Stubborn little droid, that's something else he has in common with Cal. For now, it's cute.

You feel watched and before you can think better of it you lock eyes with Cal across the fire. One eye shining gold in the licks of flame and the other a bright drop of ruby light. Something inside you stretches like a cat in the sun and spreads like a spill when you look at him.

He reads something in your expression that he likes and as a result the devilish little corner of his mouth curls in a smirk that makes you hate and enjoy him in equal measures.

You're grinning at each other like fools until all of the the sudden your eye is drawn away into the distance over his shoulder. An eerie flash of green light sparks out from the dark and shines in the light of your eye. In a heartbeat Cal follows your line of sight into the night before you can open your mouth to mention it. His hackles are up while he scans the derelict structures in the distance with his infrared eye.

“What did you see?”

“It looked like glowing green smoke. Really bright but only for a moment.”

“BD?” Ex-inquisitor asks the droid to confirm with his binocular vision what he's thinking. You swear those two can read each others thoughts sometimes.

Long seconds pass while your fingers twitch over your saber hilts as the three of you stare into the night in silence but for the snap and crackle of the fire. You step quietly to cross round the fire and join Cal's side.

BD-1 beeps in the affirmative. All clear.

“Me too.” Cal's shoulders relax barely. “Whatever it was it's gone. For now.” 

When he turns to face you Cal is pleasantly thrown by the closeness of your proximity. Cal has learned to read your behavior in a way that has helped him navigate the waters of your budding relationship at least adequately so far. Though he cannot always predict the direction of the affection or familiarity that you share. It makes mundane interactions with you thrilling.

“We'll have to stay vigilant.” Your voice is low. There's no denying you've gone soft on one another and yet there are very few ways to disarm the ex-inquisitor. It will always be difficult to pass up an opportunity to use a weapon against Cal Kestis when it falls into your lap. 

He's looking at you. Always he's looking at you, watching, studying. A knot he may never unravel, a riddle he may never solve. He thought he had you figured out and all he's learned since Nur is that he doesn't know anything. Like others that are brought to faith through great trials, he will never stop the pursuit of understanding, ravenous to learn. He's staring at your lips now. 

“Can't get....distracted....” He mumbles stupidly. It's very cute. 

Now is your time to pounce. 

“First watch says 'WHAT'.” You poke him hard in the chest and he almost loses his balance. 

“Wha- FUCK!” Cal shouts and grabs at you, missing narrowly. You reward him with an alluring squeal. A lifetime ago he would have sworn there was no sweeter sound than a cry of rage, frustration or even pain from you, until he heard your laugh. 

BD-1 whorls sarcastically and Cal grimaces at him. You've started learning binary though it's slow going. Context clues are enough to decipher that the little droid doesn't trust your combined abilities to stay vigilant. 

“I can do two things at once!” Cal begins to argue as a creeping fog rolls into the camp, proving him wrong. You step sheepishly out of Cal's space to examine the landscape but like before, there's nothing. The already dark night is obscured further by the fog's heavy pall. It feels unnatural but at this point it who are you to say what's normal on Dathomir.

BD inches closer to your side as the mist thickens around your camp. Wisely, he abstains from any “told you so” like comments. 

Cal has grown serious and he throws two more logs onto the fire. 

“Get some rest. I'll wake you when it's your turn.” 

As you resign yourself to sleep, your mind tricks you into seeing the green light flash again in the corner of your eye. Looking for the thing has tricked you into seeing it everywhere. You're about to tell Cal it's no use, sleep's not happening and you'll switch posts but that's the last thing you recall before falling fast asleep. 

You're standing in a boneyard, dry skeletal remains in every direction with no end. An infinite pattern of bleach white and spotting of empty eye sockets. This endless field, the place where infant black holes are born, always ready to suck you into oblivion. 

When you blink the bones become piles of discarded and battle-worn stormtrooper armor and back again. They sport the same blinding white reflection and peppering of fathomless black infinities. An endless number of chances to tumble into the dark and never stop falling. A small part of you wish it would happen already.

Every step you take sends a spike of fear like a lightning bolt through your blood. The bones and the armor both crunch beneath your feet as you pick a direction and attempt to cross the ocean and come out on a distant shore. 

You've been walking for years. Your steps grind the bones to powder and after a time you can't see more than a few paces in front of yourself for the clouded air. Yet you continue to trudge. 

The chalky powder has since bleached your eyes and taken your vision. It piles up and hardens in your ears so that you no longer hear the clatter of bones under your feet. Your mouth and throat are caked dry in the stuff and one by one each of your senses is claimed by the mist of white powder. Even the strain from the muscles in your legs and feet have gone numb. The blackness is utter and complete. 

A millennia passes and you aren't sure if you're still walking or if you're lying still in a grave. You no longer know yourself. Who you are and what you've done has lost all meaning.

A sensation begins to grow between your fingers and your body comes alive in a small and quiet breath. The buzz in your fingers makes you feel alive in a way you've only known once before. A time you cannot recall. 

Thick strands of rough hair pass through your fingertips, combing the dullness of time from between them. Your touch comes alive and your hands are groping and grasping. 

They are warmed in the moist hot breath of a great beast. Your palm passes over sticky rows of strong sharp teeth. Instead of pulling away you are dazzled by the sensation. The inherent danger stirs your nerves and slowly your senses return in meagerness.

You are rushed by the heavy scent of a carnivore's breath. It is rank and glorious in your nostrils. 

Your ears hum, you strain to hear more of any precious sound after the endless quiet but a sudden screech shakes the skies. It's too much and your ears ring painfully. 

The darkness before you erupts into a blinding white that sears your eyes until blurs begin to take form and shape. 

You see your hands on the face of a massive creature that for some reason, has allowed you to feel it. You are struck and frozen by the majesty of the mighty being as it slowly lifts its head from your hands and rises to its full and towering height.

The largest bat you are capable of imagining spreads its nightmarish wings in an ancient display of power that makes you feel indescribably small. When you look away from the creature your size becomes even more diminished and more so by the second. If you continue to shy away from the grandeur of this being you may disappear completely.

You squeeze your eyes shut and behind your strained eyelids a small red light blinks at you. You are startled into courage as you lift your face to the creature mere moments before shrinking into nonexistence. 

You are pinned in place like a small insect by the sharp gaze of the creature. It's eyes glow and flash in a terrible prism of light and color. The chirodactyl bellows and the booming sound of ten thousand voices emanating from the creature causes the ground beneath your feet to crack and split. You press your hands over your ears in a weak attempt to protect yourself. You hear the words as though they were vibrating out from your own bones. 

“AVENGE US.” 

You wake up in a sweat with BD-1 bouncing on your chest and chirping anxiously. The fog is still a heavy curtain around you coating everything in a cold wet dew. The fire is low but still alive, casting a dim glow that you welcome in the dismal light of the gray morning. 

Across the campfire you spot Cal, slightly obscured by the fog. He's standing stock still, senses straining to pick up the sound of slightest movement. You gingerly pick yourself up off the wet ground unsure of what to prepare yourself for.

“Wha-” you blurt into the silence. 

“Shh!” Cal spits harshly.

A shriek sounds in the distance. The kind that's too hard to explain, not animal or human. The kind that turns your blood to ice. The kind you hope you'll hear a second time to justify your unsettled mind but it's something you only hear once. It's followed by profound and disturbing silence, a prelude to something wretched. 

Much closer than expected you hear the rapid slap of footsteps close in. Cal's crimson lightsaber sparks to life as he raises it in a parry. A severed limb arcs through the air past you though the attacker's onslaught is barely slowed. 

You're young but your life has been very full. You've seen wonders, marvels and horrors to fill pages upon pages of any storybook. Nothing, not one sight in the galaxy could prepare you for what youreyes attempt to process before you now. 

After a second enemy steps out of the fog and into the fray, Cal is beset on both sides by the dried and shriveled corpses of women dressed in tattered red rags. Their empty dead eyes radiate a familiar and neon green light that leaves toxic trails in the air following behind the undead's sharp movements. 

“Ladies, ladies, one at a time. There's plenty for everyone.” Cal snarks. 

They're clumsy but fast. Cal's offensive maneuvers are only serving to deplete his energy as his blade strikes the empty air. Your weapon ignites as you make to assist your partner. Let's see how they fare against two lightsabers. 

Before you can cross the small battleground, BD-1 blips urgently and you understand his warning with barely enough time to face your own opponent. 

The ghoul's long razor sharp nails shred the sleeve of your shirt as you then take the hand. BD-1 narrowly avoids the soaring appendage, trilling indignantly. 

Circling with the creature allows you a moment to examine it better. Looking at it now you wonder how these creaking, chattering, snarling monsters managed to sneak up on you even under the thick cloak of fog. 

Two more sets of glowing green eyes emerge from the mist behind your opponent joining its ranks as you land a clean horizontal swipe. The witch's legs fall out from under her as she lands in a terrible pile. You move to sever the head, the surest way to ensure any opponent's defeat but you are set upon from behind. 

Your shoulders are wrapped in the papery embrace of a deceased nightsister. She claws and scrapes at you with her lipless teeth on your neck. The sound of her in your ear makes you shiver on a cellular level. 

“Ugh!!” With two hands you reach behind your shoulders and grab hold of the creature, wrapping your fingers around her clavicles, and lob her with all your strength over your head and into her oncoming sisters. They are intimidating enemies to be sure but their bones are weak and they don't weigh much considering. The nightsisters fall back and are devoured by the mist temporarily. The force of the throw sends you tumbling backwards into Cal. 

He turns on you ready to strike but continues past when his eyes focus again. His saber arcs over your shoulder into the neck of monster. Repeatedly he uses the Force to slow the creatures and hack them to bits. The ground around him is littered with the severed limbs of his enemies though the nightsisters persist. The ranks on his side have been reinforced and you count at least 8 or more with no way to know for certain as they dip in and out of the fog. 

You duck below Cal's waist and skewer another creature following with an upward slice, that one won't be getting up again. It's a pleasure to watch the green light in its eyes fade to nothingness. 

You turn and press your back up against Cal and circle slowly, allowing you both to survey the small battleground that was your camp.

“There may not be enough of me to go around.” Cal gripes. 

A bony hand clamps down on your ankle and you see the legless sister you had begun this encounter with. Circled all around you are the living dead of this planet's people in various states of decay. Their collective sound is the stuff of nightmares and there are enough of them gathered to cast a wretched green glow over everything.

You will survive this, you have survived so much worse. Some rattled old corpses will not be the end, you forbid it. Your booted foot comes down hard on the skull of the scrambling creature echoing out in a gratifying crack. For the moment, it is the how that escapes you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cal has his back to you. His shoulders rise and fall with his deep and rapid breathing. You're alarmed right away by something that's difficult to place, not his posture but the way he holds himself. 
> 
> The quiet thump of nightsister fists can be heard scratching and clawing on the ship's hull. The only indication that Cal can hear you is in the slight dip of his head. It lolls to one shoulder as though the scarred half of his head has grown too heavy. 
> 
> A flip switches in your mind and part of you is disturbed by how easy it is to revert to your old ways. You put your fighting leg forward and bend your knees, a ready pose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for sticking with me through the mayhem! For reading! For commenting and/or quietly enjoying! and for positivity in general! 
> 
> This chapter's not super long but it went a little in a direction I didn't expect so I'm still figuring some stuff out. Carefully prepared outlines really are just suggestions once you get typing huh? Either way... 
> 
> Enjoy!

The dampness of the fog mixes with the cold sweat of your skin creating a waxy film that wraps uneasiness around you like a wet blanket. Blurred forms surround you and the noise of rattling bones sounds from every direction. You never would have guessed that the undead were so loud. You can barely hear BD-1's frightened whistles over the sounds of their hissing and wheezing. 

The only comfort in this moment is the solid press of Cal's spine against yours as you're encircled, back to back. The bright glow of your weapons lights up the mist around you, staving off the swirling green aura cast by the luminescent eyes of the small army of risen dead nightsisters. 

The calm unpauses and three figures step forward out of the fog before you. Behind you Cal raises his sword arm and brings it down repeatedly in fell swoops that chop and hack as many corpses as possible, only to be replenished over and over. You use the Force to slow time around the nearest wave. 

You need a moment to collect yourself, just one second of reprieve. It's too much to ask for as the ghouls from behind clamor over their frozen sisters in their desperation to claw at you. You have time only to grab the wrists of an oncoming witch, stopping her from shredding your face under her fingernails. Your lightsaber falls to the ground and panic rises in your chest when the papery countenance, inches from your nose, strains to take a bite. 

Your leg aches terribly and more than what's normal, there is a searing heat as you realize you're practically standing in the low flames of your campfire. BD-1, who never stands idly by, does what he can to help and lobs a bulb of hot coal from the fire at your foe as she wrestles in your grasp. The absurd obscenity of the moment gives both you and the witch pause as the flaming coal lands in her open mouth, not seconds before the dried husk of your enemy erupts in flame. 

“Holy shit!” your shout is drowned out by BD-1's excited trilling. On instinct you release a pulse of Force energy sending the flaming nightsister careening backward into three of her kind, only just now coming up to speed after being slowed. 

The already dire situation escalates at a speed you find difficult to process when the highly flammable tinder that is the nightsisters' decrepit bodies light up one after the other. Your brain stutters with the heat of them on your face. 

Cal's relentless hacking and slashing is slowed when he feels you still against his back. You dig deep within yourself and draw upon a small well of light energy as you extend your arms in opposite directions. A protective barrier forms between your crew and the flaming enemies when you spread your fingers and cast your focus out around you. 

Light side abilities drift farther and father from your arsenal as you continue down the path your life has taken you, but this is one you have struggled to keep keen since it saved you and Cere from Vader on Nur. 

Cal turns to you absolutely dripping with sweat. He rolls his sore shoulder and quickly takes stock of the situation, always adapting. His wild eyes dart from sister to sister as the flames spread from one witch to the next until you are standing in a lake of fire that lights up the gray foggy day in a way the sun on Dathomir never does. Like most other weapons, the hungry flames do nothing to slow the nightsisters and instead have only served to make them deadlier. 

“You just couldn't help yourself, could you?” Cal wipes his forehead and flicks his sweat at BD-1 who responds with indignity. 

“Well maybe you should stop trying to help.” Cal scoops your lightsaber off the ground near your feet and twists it into the hilt of his own. He smacks the weapon with the heel of his hand until both ends ignite. 

“Ha!” The one time inquisitor exclaims in victory as his droid companion scrambles up onto his back.

“We have to get back to the ship. It's close but we need to open a path.” You suggest in a measured and reserved voice. All of your focus is on keeping the shield up around you, though it has already begun to flicker. 

“Way ahead of you, gorgeous.” A familiar whir fills the air as the blades of deadly crimson light start to spin rapidly. Cal's smile is bittersweet and distant as he feels the force of the weapon's rotation in his hand. Fits like an old glove.

In your mind you see him the way he looked on Zeffo, about to take down the largest Jotaz you've ever seen, all full of vim and verve. You already know what he's capable of with such a weapon. It's funny to think of how scared you were of him then and how far you've come.

Your heart swells and for a peculiar moment you're not sure if Cal can feel it too from the look he gives you. Like you said something he was thinking, something out loud but only he could hear you. 

Your shield flickers long enough for two nightsisters to stumble into the bubble. Cal's on them immediately and in mere seconds they are reduced to several burning pieces. This is going to work.

“Ok, I'll make a space for you. BD, you get the hangar door open.” BD affirms, Cal nods and you turn in the direction of the Pursuit, inhaling confidence and exhaling doubt. “On three. Ready?” 

“Do it.”

“Three!” 

The shields dissolve and you release a pulse of Force energy that slices through the fiery wall of enemies just as a set of burning hot fingers close around your leg. Cal pulls you forward with one arm and turns the whirling red propeller blades on the witches behind you sending a spray of flames and bodily debris in all directions. You lower your head and duck into Cal's cover as he charges forward. Maintaining that shield for so long has exhausted you but a series of well timed Force blasts are keeping them off your tail. 

There is a sublime moment of frozen chaos. You wish you could bottle this. You wish your brain didn't blunt your memories to protect you from what happened in moments like these. Moments of pure untainted chaos produce an intoxicating sensation. It will strike you most in the moment it is passed and like a candle it will plunge you into darkness, as you try and try again to remember the smell, as you rub your fingers together trying to recall the spark of electricity in the air.

You reach the ship and seconds before you step onto the safety of the Pursuit a light catches your eye in the distance behind your group. You see a white haired woman hooded in ruby colored robes, a woman of flesh and blood, who steps out of green mist with her deadly stare trained on you. 

“You trespass, Jedi.” Her deep silky voice echoes in your ear as though she was standing right beside you. “Dathomir is forbidden to you. ” 

You are stunned by her gaze and frozen where you stand. Cal tugs you backwards and BD1-1 heaves his little body against your leg in an effort to get you up the ramp. A firm grasp on your elbow tugs you onto the ship as the door shuts on several witches. You're left staring at the cold metal of the Pursuit's hangar door that's shut in your face. You still feel her eyes on you as though the obstacles between you were non-existent.

“Leave this place.” Her voice rings in your ear and you can almost feel the tickle of her breath there. Your head snaps to the side expecting to see the silver haired woman herself but instead there is only a scared little droid. He's looking at Cal. 

You land firmly in the here and now when you recognize the tone of BD-1's cadence. There's trepidation in his beeps and trills but you hear too the unmistakable appeal of one friend to another. 

Cal has his back to you. His shoulders rise and fall with his deep and rapid breathing. You're alarmed right away by something that's difficult to place. Not his posture but the way he holds himself. 

“What is it now?” There hasn't been a moment to catch your breath. “Cal...?” you adopt a tone similar to BD's. 

The quiet thump of nightsister fists can be heard scratching and clawing on the ship's hull. The only indication that Cal can hear you is in the slight dip of his head. It lolls to one shoulder as though the scarred half of his head has grown too heavy. 

A flip switches in your mind and part of you is disturbed by how easy it is to revert to your old ways. You put your fighting leg forward and bend your knees, a ready pose. 

“CAL.” His name is a slap, meant to snap him back to reality. It worked once before. 

He turns slowly and your eyes connect but the Cal looking back at you isn't yours. Your heart drops. His right eye twitches and his scar is throbbing. Imperial Inquisitor Cal Kestis stands before you. 

“YOU.” He utters the lonely word, filling it with all the hatred and wonder that has dazzled your relationship with the Eleventh Brother from the very first moment you met. He grits his teeth as the same eye spasms wildly before he digs the heel of his hand into the socket. 

“BD, get behind me.” you warn. The droid surprisingly obeys.

All the progress you'd made together was biting its own tail before your eyes, leaving you both right where you had started. 

“Can't we have more than this?” You don't mean to say it aloud, it's practically a whisper. 

In the small hangar, the ceiling sparks when Cal flourishes his double-bladed weapon and moves to close the space between you. The focus of his strike is frightening, you expected the extreme pain from his eye to be disorienting. Not so for Inquisitor Kestis.

You raise your hands and use one of his favorite moves against him. It's as though time itself has slowed when the air around him suddenly becomes heavy, hindering his movements. This fills him with rage and it plays across his face plainly. You know deep down somewhere your Cal is amused. He growls at you like an animal. 

“Cal, stop this. I know you, this isn't what you want.” You attempt to reach him before you both fall too deeply into your old habits.

“I'm alive when I'm fighting you. The rest of the time...I don't know.” His bionic eye sparks and gives you the distraction you've been waiting for. He doubles over as a spasm of pain washes over him. 

Using the Force, you pull the lightsaber from his hand and it comes easily to rest in your grasp. You toss it to BD-1, who runs with it. Cal barely notices as his empty hand flies up to his throbbing head and he digs his fingernails into his scalp. His scream makes your skin crawl. You've never heard it before, though you've seen Cal in pain many times.

Times certainly have changed because the sight of Cal injuring himself makes you cry out. Caution flies into the wind as you throw yourself on him. 

“Stop it!” You're sitting on his chest pinning his wrists to the floor. His cries grow louder as he thrashes and struggles ineffectively against you, so great is his pain.

“Look at me! Cal, look at me!!” You yell and pound his wrists on the ground until he looks up into your eyes. His sparkling golden eye is bloodshot and tearing, the other is dark. 

No, this isn't fair! You made it out of the fortress! Both of you survived already, how can the Empire touch you here when it's just the two of you? It isn't fair! No matter how many Imperials you kill the Empire will always survive through what they've done to you. What they're still doing. It fills you with a white hot fury. 

You feel as close to the dark side in this moment than when it whispered back to you in your cell on Nur, since the pandemonium of the Fortress Inquisitorius. Your heart clenches and swells as you feel the cold brush of dark side power unfurl its petals in your chest.

The air stills. The Force gathers around you and emanates from within. The relentless pounding of undead fists and the screech of animated corpses on every side of the ship fades to nothingness. The fight goes out of Cal completely as he is drawn into the warm embrace of your gaze. To look away is to crumble into nothingness. 

You release his wrists but hold fast to one of his hands. In slow smooth motions you place his flat palm on your chest where your heart beats rhythmically. His breath catches as you slide your cold fingers under his shirt to rest in the same spot. Nothing moves in the raking stillness until your hearts thump in the same beat. You and Cal share one simultaneous inhale and it is sweeter than your first breath in this world. Your minds are indelibly linked and remarkably empty. Cal's pain fades to the very furthest corner of his mind as he immerses himself in your ubiquity.

“You are so tired.” The Force emboldens your voice and gives it power.

“I am ...so tired.” Cal parrots back at you. 

“Then you should sleep.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. You hate to do this. You didn't even know that you were capable, it seems all things are possible through the dark side. To take a person's free will, even for a moment, is an especially dark and ugly thing. To do it to Cal, after what you know he's endured, is gut-wrenching, but at least he's stopped screaming.

“I ...Y/N?” he mutters, fighting off the inevitable. 

“Go to sleep, Cal.” You press his hand harder into your skin. The beat of your hearts and breaths are one.

“Sleep.” Cal murmurs as he finally succumbs to your suggestion. His head falls to the side as his hand drops off your chest lifelessly. The long stretch of scarred flesh on his head pulses angrily and his cheek is hot to the touch but his face is serene. Cal's brow is smooth and his long eyelashes flutter slightly. If you hadn't seen him only moments before his forced slumber, you might envy the peaceful rest he seems to enjoy now. 

BD-1 cries out for your attention from below deck. His bright eyed face pokes out from the doorway to the gunnery where the Pursuit's single turret is maintained and manned. It's also the best place to get a 360 degree view around the ship. Clever droid. 

BD returns your joined lightsabers and you fasten the weapon to your belt. You throw yourself through the doorway feet first, preparing to blast a dathomiry witch and her swarm of fiery undead nightsisters into oblivion. Just as you imagine the blissful relief this will provide you are somehow disappointed to see nothing beyond the transparisteel windshield but thick opaque green fog. You thump into the gunner's chair and swivel around to find it's the same in every direction. Silent impenetrable fog.

You power up the Pursuit's spotlight and it slices through the fog like a flaming sword. In a few moments the mist finally dissipates to reveal...a barren canyon. Not only are the nightsisters vanished but also their charred and severed limbs. You don't even see the evidence of battle in the footprints left in the dirt, as though the entire morning had been imagined. 

You're dizzy and your head is swimming.

You step out of the ship into the bright hot Dathomir sun, leaving Cal with a fretting BD-1. The emptiness between the stone structures in the distance echos in the wind. You turn round several times before dropping in a small heap, confused in the dirt.

Some time passes, you're not sure how long but you need to drink some water. You struggle to your feet, sun-baked and sleep-deprived. 

“Fellow wanderer!” An excessively excited voice startles you. What fresh hell is this?

“How long have you been there? Did you see the zombies?” Your head is pounding.

“You sound unfortunate enough to have had an encounter with the resident Nightsister Merrin.” The man's voice is rather sing-song and not unpleasant though you cannot decide one way or the other if he's good news or bad.

Merrin. A name to go along with the face of the silver haired witch that gave you and your crew such a warm welcome. You feel the tickle of her breath in your ear again and know you have not seen the last of her. 

“You have yet to mention who you are yourself.” 

You begin to dislike the man as he flashes one disingenuous smile at you after another.

“Oh, just a traveler, no one to fear. Studying the nature of extinct cultures and dead philosophies.”

“You study the nightsisters?”

“I study many things” The man laughs and its charming and ugly at the same time.

“I'm a former Jedi, like yourself.” He indicates the lightsaber clipped to your belt. “We have much in common, I think.”

You look at your ship anxious to check on your crew. You think of the morning you had, of the week you've had, of the year you've had and then you look at the wild eyed stranger with feigned friendship in his voice. 

“I doubt that.” You laugh mostly to yourself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You tuck your head into the nook of his shoulder and lay your palm gingerly over his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart thrums in your hand and the vibrato spreads through every inch of you. It's strong and loud and for just a moment it clears your mind completely and blissfully. When BD realizes he will have no answers he resigns himself to the rest you all desperately need and nestles himself in the small sliver of space between you. Somehow you fall asleep, all three of you clustered on the unforgiving floor of your ship. When you wake up your old problems and some new ones will still be there. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving everyone that's stuck around or is just joining the story! Thanks so much for reading and showing support 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“I doubt that” you can't help but chuckle at this overly familiar stranger.

“Oh?” The hooded man counters your cynicism as he walks around you in a loose circle. “We both survived the purge. My troops betrayed me. I was forced to strike them down and I escaped.” 

There is a lightness in his voice that does not match the gravity of his words. Despite your resolve to remain indifferent to this bizarre person you feel yourself succumb to the familiarity of your shared experience.

A memory of clone troopers leveling their blasters at you and your Master flashes before your mind's eye before you refocus on the tattered and grizzled man in front of you. 

“To Dathomir.” The cloaked man extends his arms wide and breathes deep the hot dry air of Dathomir in the daylight. “This...desolate place. The darkness here. It almost took me but I conquered it. And it is here on Dathomir that I found my true purpose, I heard a real call to power. I've had to scratch and claw my way towards receiving my just desserts.” You think he's forgotten you're here at all until he whirls around to face you where you've remained sitting. His smile is wide, toothy and untrustworthy. “Something else we may have in common. There is power in you, I can sense it. In your companion too.” 

Your eyes narrow when he refers to Cal. It's a sobering reminder to be on your guard. 

“Is there something you want from me? I'm very busy just now.” You've been sitting in dirt, baking your brain in the sun for an hour at least. 

Your eyes are drawn to a rope dangling off his belt that clatters, heavy with ornaments of some kind. They ring hollow like dried antlers or horns.

“You've spotted my collection.” He runs an affectionate hand over the accessories making them rattle.

“I have accrued a following of nightbrothers. They respect forcefulness and savagery above all else. It is the only language they understand and I speak it fluently.” 

Something in your chest shrinks in on itself and hardens. You glean that the man before you stopped being a Jedi when he began collecting the accessories on his belt.

Something shifts in the man's face and while it is unsettling to you, it's also eerily familiar. Something you thought was personal, an intimate brush with the dark side. The traveler is surrounded by an aura of dark energy that you both fear and covet.

“You cannot tell yet but we are like minds. Kindred spirits even.” The man wags his finger knowingly, emphasizing the point he's convinced himself of. 

Not this again. Not another one. Your shoulders sag with exasperation and it only spurs him on. He can tell he's losing you. Like a salesman making his last pitch, the wizened one time Jedi takes a more direct approach to enthrall you.

“My rise to power on Dathomir is not yet complete. There are nightbrothers that remain loyal to the witch you have recently become acquainted with who balk at my succession.” 

“Merrin.” The name leaves your mouth unbidden. You worry she will appear as though summoned. 

“The same.” The man's face falls into a deep grimace at the mention of her. “You may have noticed a relic in her hands during her assault on your ship and crew.” 

“There was a lot going on.” Your mind conjures the clear image of a broken sphere glowing bright and green in Merrin's pale hands. 

“Were I to acquire this item, the last of the nightbrothers would surely abandon the witch and recognize my right to rule. There would be none left to oppose me.” His fist clenches at his side and he supposes you don't notice. 

A strong breeze howls through the barren haunted remains of what may have been a bustling land at one time and your heart feels heavy. You pity these two opponents fighting over an empty country. If the witch and the madman want to tear each other apart to rule over the living dead what is that to you? 

The unenthusiastic look you level at him begs the question. 

“Kill nightsister Merrin and bring the relic to me.” He states it plainly. Finally. 

“Now why would I do something like that?” Your chuckle is as dry as the cracked ground beneath you. 

“Your companion is sick.” The feigned charm has left his voice completely and the statement falls flat in the dirt. The amusement drains from you in an instant. 

“How do you-” 

“Once Dathomir is mine I will have the power to restore your friend. Only with the relic.” His good humor has returned and it's more irritating than ever. 

“How can I trust you?” You sound like a child, beaten at a game you weren't even playing. 

“You've seen some of what a person is capable of with such a tool.” He gestures at the deep and plentiful scratch marks that run the length of both your arms and you recall the recent past and feel the undead grasping and clawing at you in desperation.

“Honestly friend, what choice do you have?” 

You decide then and there that you hate this man. 

“You are strong in the dark side, anyone can sense that but it is raw and unrefined. You have no guidance and you're out of options. Not unlike myself when I had first arrived on this planet.” He pauses for a long time as you struggle with the urge to throttle him, your only hope of helping Cal. 

“You'll see that joining me is the right choice. I don't care that you deserted the Empire, that you're Sith, whatever your story is. Your red sabers denote that you have already abandoned the ways of the Jedi, so I know you're smart. I'll be waiting in the temple when you have it.”

He leaves you where he found you baking in the sun. More time passes, you're not sure how long it's been before you struggle to your feet and trudge up the ramp of the Pursuit. 

Cal is sprawled out of the floor where you left him. Streaks of dried salt tears mark paths down his cheeks but his face is blank and serene. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than ever.

You can tell from the upward inflection of BD-1's chirps that he's asking you something though you're not sure exactly what. Your brain is fried and you only have the strength to curl up on the floor next to Cal.

You tuck your head into the nook of his shoulder and lay your palm gingerly over his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart thrums in your hand and the vibrato spreads through every inch of you. It's strong and loud and for just a moment it clears your mind completely and blissfully. When BD realizes he will have no answers he resigns himself to the rest you all desperately need and nestles himself in the small sliver of space between you. Somehow you fall asleep, all three of you clustered on the unforgiving floor of your ship. When you wake up your old problems and some new ones will still be there. 

When you wake it's still light out or maybe light again. Time is recorded in your memory by stringing one traumatic fight for your life to the next with nary a break to breath rather than the days that pass. You realize what it was that woke you when Cal stirs for the second time. While you were asleep his hand had come up around your waist and now his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt as he grumbles in his sleep.

“Shit!” you whisper harshly. BD-1 beeps curiously as you spring to action. Cal's brow creases in a deep furrow.

“BD, where's the med kit?!” You rasp while furiously sorting through the various shelves and storage of the galley. You hear Cal groaning over your shoulder as his discomfort grows and panic rises in your chest just as you turn and face a beaming BD-1. He's balancing the med kit on his flat little head and trilling loudly. 

“Yes! Thank you!” You shout a little too loudly as the helpful droid hops onto your shoulder. 

You spill the contents of the kit onto the floor at Cal's side and scramble through them frantically. 

“Master...It hurts...” Cal groans. 

“Where is it? Dammit, where is it?!” 

“Master Topal!” Cal's eyelids lift and your gaze connects with his bloodshot eyes just as you plunge a sedative into the meat of his thigh. He looks confused and bereft before drifting to unconsciousness yet again. Though you were successful your heart grows heavy. 

You run your hands over your face in exasperation and take a moment to press the heel of your hand between your eyes. A moment for yourself before refocusing your attention on the sleeping but restless Cal.

His brow twitches and then settles when you smooth your thumb across his forehead.

“BD, stay here and hit him again if he wakes up.” 

Some unsure warbling. You don't need to know binary to understand. 

“I don't like it either. I hate it but...” you sigh heavily before admitting a hard truth, “I don't know what else to do. The Force is so strong here, he'll tear the ship apart. ” 

You allow BD-1 a moment to imagine what Cal is capable of and shudder to think of it yourself.

“And when he screams like that...Do you have a better idea?” 

BD's head droops and he whorls sadly before taking up the next sedative in his grasp, resigned to the task. 

“I have a plan but I need you to trust me. Just stay here and watch over him, please. I'll be back with someone that can help.” You buckle your worn leather belt around your waist and hop up and down as you tug on your boots and prepare yourself for the witch hunt. BD-1 nods emphatically and warbles with resolve. 

“Thank you! Thank you BD. I'll be back as soon as I can, I swear!” You shout to the tiny droid over your shoulder and refuse to spare yourself one last glance at Cal who has become alarmingly jittery and feverish in a very short time. You hear him murmur your name as you step off the Pursuit to search for the Nightsister Merrin. 

In the deserted sandstone city you find the remnants of a flourishing people. Though the ghostly buildings have grown desolate and decrepit there is art on the walls. There is expert and delicate pottery piled in the corners of rooms where people lived. You feel them observing you from the netherworld. They want to know what you're doing in their house but you're too distracted to consider the dead.

It's true that you've taken many lives. It's something you may have struggled with at one time but like any skill it's gotten easier each time and you're only becoming more efficient. You have no regrets and you'll do it again and again.

While you realize this isn't the most wholesome skill to hone or hunger to feed you are confident in the fact that each one of your targets deserved the fate you had served them and more. As you find yourself scanning the bones of the Nightsister's homes you can't say with certainty that this Merrin deserves to die. 

Repeatedly, you remind yourself that this particular quarry has already tried to kill you and your crew. She very nearly succeeded. 

You understand better than most what it's like to start a relationship on the wrong foot. Bounding across gaps in the crumbling stone floor, you find it difficult to shake the nagging notion that Merrin isn't all bad.

What has your life become when you despise a man that approaches you cordially and yet defend the homicidal witch that used her dead ancestors to murder you and your crew? 

You push all thoughts from your mind when the memory of Cal's screaming rings in your ears. Whatever Merrin deserves or doesn't, it's him or her. 

You enter an encampment built over the crumbling stone and reinforced with shoddy timber. It smells less empty somehow, more like a place where there might be more people than ghosts. There are notes of a campfire in the near distance. 

With so few people living people on the planet it's likely that anyone you run into will know something about where to find Merrin. Though something inside you believes she will show herself again. 

Your mind runs away again as you bound up a wall onto a second story. Does Cal truly deserve to live more than this witch? He's had a lifetime of evil doing you can certainly attest to. Is his only merit over her that you care about him? He's tried to kill you too.

There's no time to unpack all this. You've encountered some native fauna and like everything else on this planet it's increasingly hostile. 

It is your firm belief that luck has eluded you all your life but never was there more proof than when you narrowly avoided the small swarm of acid-spitting spiders on Dathomir. Of course, of fucking course it's spiders. It's always spiders. The stim BD-1 insisted you carry comes in handy after you defeat three of the arachnids only to have them combust in a spray of toxicity. The sizzle of your own skin reminds you of Nur.

The heat is stifling and the sun is relentless but it's especially cold in the shadows. The result is a chilly sweat that coats you all over and makes you feel a little queasy. However the search continues.

In reality what bothers you most is the idea of helping that deceitful old man in the cloak. Without concrete evidence you know in your heart that he is the one who deserves the end of your blade. Your skin crawls at the memory of his sugary tone.

“I thought I was more than clear the first time.” Merrin's velvety voice calls out and you reel around to face her. 

“Merrin.” There is flint behind the name and her eyes narrow when she hears you. 

“You've been talking to Malicos.” So that's his name. They've given each other up. “My message is the same. You are not welcome in this place. Leave at once.” 

She pulls the relic Malicos has tasked you with securing from her crimson robes. It glows with an unearthly green light and two formidable zabrak appear from the ether at her sides. Their bodies and faces are done up all over with intricate black tattooing. Each of their heads are adorned with a prominent set of horns that are grotesquely familiar.

Nightbrothers. 

You've seen the witch teleport using the relic before. This is something you cannot risk. If she gets away now there is no way to know if or when she will show herself again. Quick action is key. 

You reach out in the Force and call the broken sphere to your hand and it comes to you easily. 

“I'll be taking this.”

Merrin is caught off guard, shocked and mortified as you are tackled to the ground by one nightbrother, just after you narrowly dodged the attack of another.

“You dare?! Stop her, brothers! Take back what she's stolen!” Merrin howls in outrage. 

You are buried beneath the weight of the behemoth nightbrother that scrambles over you. With one hand you cradle the broken relic against your body protecting it from the cloying zabrak fingers and with the other you grab at the lightsaber hilt at your hip. 

The second nightbrother steps around the squabble and grabs a fist full of your hair attempting to drag you out from under his brother and to your feet. Not before a column of red light erupts from your attacker's back betwixt the shoulder blades.

The weight of the horned nightbrother doubles just as you're tugged clear from the lifeless mass of him. 

“No!” Merrin cries out.

Horror tears through the remaining nightbrother followed by a fathomless loss and rage that makes him reckless. He's strong but grief has made him clumsy.

He lands a solid strike that sends the coveted relic across the sand away from the group. You feel one of your molars loosen on impact and somehow you hold on to your wits. 

The green magic protecting your enemy and reinforcing his weapon has faded without the artifact in his mistress's hands. An arcing upward lightsaber strike severs the tattooed warrior from one hip to the other shoulder and he falls away from himself in two neat pieces.

When you turn to face her the Nightsister looks brave but less confident than you've ever seen her. The relic lays unclaimed in the dirt behind you. If Merrin wants it she must literally go through you.

Without her people's heirloom she's not as strong but not powerless. Never powerless. 

“Fucking Jedi! You have taken everything from me! Must you have every inch of Dathomir after you've already taken all my sisters?” Merrin cries defiantly. The weight of her confession gives you pause.

The nightsister's hands radiate a dark and nefarious light and the ground at your feet trembles. Living stone rises around your ankles, rooting you where you stand. One leg manages to avoid getting stuck in the fluid stone but your sturdy duranium foot remains trapped when the rock solidifies.

Merrin shimmers in the telltale green light of her magic, gathering the energy around her to teleport past you. On instinct you extend your clawed fist in the air and use the Force to drag the witch forward out of the fade she's conjured. The last Nightsister has no choice but to turn and face you. 

“Don't do this, Jedi.” Merrin barters for her life even as she steps forward into an attack that sends a blast of green Force energy that pushes you back a short distance. 

You've never been more thankful for your nearly indestructible metal leg. It turns the stone encasing it to rubble as you are thrown by Merrin's strike. A human bone would have snapped in half.

You gain your feet in an instant and before Merrin can take a single step towards the artifact she finds herself suspended in the air before you.

“I'm not a Jedi and this isn't personal.” you utter with melancholy as you hold your enemy aloft but struggle to clench your fingers and end the dangling nightsister's life. 

“I can't die! I have to kill Taron Malicos!” she rasps, clawing at her throat. 

Hovering in the air, you see your adversary in a new light. A young woman, perhaps your own age, full of anger, rage, disappointment and fear. Emotions you know all too well.

She just wants revenge, you think to yourself. Who wouldn't? 

This woman tried to murder you. Don't forget that she tried to kill Cal and BD-1. Remember the zombies! 

“It's not for me.” she grates “It's for my people.” The paleness of her ashen skin begins to go pink as she struggles for breath. A battle inside you wages and you lack the will to pinch your fingers together. 

“It's for my people.” she repeats. 

Avenge us. The words resound from deep inside you. 

Not revenge then. She wants vengeance. Righteous and noble vengeance. 

You lower your hand to your side and it starts to tremble as you release a sobbing breath. Merrin collapses in the dirt, spared.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malicos. You can't pinpoint the exact moment but you've already made the decision to kill this man. He is a Jedi well and truly fallen from the creed, turned to a way of wrong-doing and harming others. A deceiver and manipulator who begs for the justice of your sword with every attempt he makes to grab at crumbs of power. Pathetic.
> 
> You could be describing yourself. 
> 
> You're different. Cal is different. The denial would be crippling if you refused to admit there are similarities but when it comes down to it, Malicos isn't like you. He may not be better or worse but he is different in a way that matters. 
> 
> “I'll help you.” you blurt without thinking. It's so sudden Merrin barely hears you. 
> 
> “You'll- you what? How?” She needs clarification.
> 
> “Don't you want him dead?” The weighty matter is so simple to you. It's difficult to imagine there was a time you would balk at the idea. There is no doubt in your mind now that the universe would be a better place without Taron Malicos in it. 
> 
> “More than anything.” Her response is immediate and vehement.
> 
> “Then that's what we'll do.” You don't understand why she looks so shocked. Isn't that what friends do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda long. Malicos is the worst! I miss Cal! Merrin is a goddess. MC is such a mess who does her best. BD is an angel baby in every iteration and that's just the truth. 
> 
> Thank you thank you THANK YOU for reading, commenting, liking and supporting this story. It's such a joy to write for you guys! 
> 
> Please Enjoy!

lYour eyesight blurs and refocuses. Your throat is tight from holding back tears as you attempt to control the violent trembling in your hands. 

Merrin tears the hood from her head and frantically pulls on the high collar of her robe while she takes deep rasping gulps of air. 

Time is too precious here to be struck so dumb. Over your shoulder you spy the nightsister artifact laying carelessly in the sand where it had been tossed during the fight. With a heave you scramble to your ungainly feet and scoop up the crescent shaped treasure. It's heavier than it looks and it feels both hot and cold to the touch. 

“What is this thing?” you demand from your enemy before she's caught her breath.

“It's mine! It belongs in the hands of a nightsister... it's all I have left of them.” She seethes at you on her hands and knees. Merrin knows she's been beat but if she's still alive then nothing is over. 

You ignite your ligthsaber but hold it low at your side. You've already made it clear you don't want to kill her but it doesn't mean you won't if she makes you. 

“Why does Malicos want it? He's not from Dathomir, can he even use it?” You hold the thing in front of you, examining the stone that resonates living energy. 

“Taron Malicos will never know the feeling of my people's most sacred item in his hands!” Merrin gets slowly to her feet, wisely making no sudden movements. 

“The most powerful Nightsister to ever live created the whole of that orb and even though there is only one piece of it left its power is unfathomable.” She raises her chin and speaks with conviction that stirs your heart. 

Emboldened by her own words she takes a confident step towards you. 

“One more move and I'll turn it to dust.” You warn dispassionately and the nighsister freezes where she stands. Her frustration is overwhelming and it fills the air with palpable vibrancy. 

“Enough of this! Finish what your Jedi predecessors started in my youth. Strike down the last nightsister and take Dathomir for your Master Malicos. It is the only way I will relent.” She spits in the dirt. 

“We're not- I'm not with him. Whatever he's done to you, to your people, it has nothing to do with me or mine.” 

“Then why do you do his bidding? It is obvious he sent you.” 

“We came here looking for rest and you attacked us unprovoked. I'm just responding to hostility.” 

How your Master would grieve to see you counter violence with violence so readily. 

“Liar. Jedi do not come to Dathomir peacefully. I know.” 

“I told you I'm not a Jedi.” You wonder what your dead Jedi Master would think of hearing that too.

Merrin points at your lightsaber. 

“Is that not a Jedi's weapon? I've seen them before. Armored warriors brandished these against my sisters. I was left alone with the dead.” 

“Having a lightsaber isn't what makes you a Jedi” you look into the radiating red light of your saber as you choose your next words. “Jedi are peacekeepers. If Malicos was one before, he isn't one now.” 

“And what does that make you?” She bats the dust off her legs and levels you with an acerbic frown. 

“I'm not a threat to you. In fact, I'm sorry for what you've been through. I know what it's like to lose everything.” For you the fight is over and won but Merrin's guard is still up and she's on high alert. 

“Pardon me if I do not believe you.” If a gesture was ever inherently sarcastic, it is how Merrin indicates her bruised throat. 

That's fair. There's something about the nightsister's staunch resolve that you admire and part of you just wants her to like you even though you've been put at odds. 

“Can you heal someone with this?” You lift the broken sphere and her heart falters when you fumble but catch it again. 

“Heal someone? ...I can reanimate a corpse.” she shares with a shrug “Dathomiri magic is not naturally a healing art.” 

“So it's not even possible. He lied to me.” You spit through clenched teeth. This realization is far from surprising though it is more disheartening than ever that no help is coming for Cal. 

“You must mean Malicos. He does that.” Her words are thick with bile. 

You've sunk to your knees and the nightsister has dared to step closer. She affords you the same small distance she would give an injured predator.

“He wants me to kill you and bring this to him.” You speak without looking at her. “He said he would use it to heal Cal but … I don't know what to do, there's nothing to do for him. I'm such a fool. I thought I could...save him.” She can't tell when you're referring to Malicos or Cal and you do nothing to clarify for her. 

A tragic laughter bubbles in your chest. The absurdity of seeing a trap and still walking directly into it digs at you. Obviously Malicos was trouble. From the very first second your instincts told you he wasn't to be trusted. You allowed yourself to be manipulated for nothing and it hurts. 

You almost murdered the last known Nightsister against your will and Cal is still going to die. Because of Taron Malicos.

Merrin's brow pinches together in consternation. An internal struggle is clear on her face as she processes your obvious distress. With a heavy sigh her decision is made, even to her chagrin. 

“I did not say it was impossible. What is the matter with your friend?” she asks resigned to at least learn more. Perhaps the witch has decided you don't seem too terrible, even if you tried to kill her. There's so much of that sentiment going around. 

You look up at her with tears in your red rimmed eyes. 

“It's his head. They did something to his brain.” Your hand rises to the side of your head where Cal's scar would be. “He's in terrible pain...and all I can do is keep him asleep but not for much longer.” 

“Who did that to him?” 

You clench your fists and the rocks and pebbles that litter the ground around you rumble and bounce. Darkness gathers and concentrates around you that Merrin can almost see. 

“The Empire.” The words are a vile whisper. 

In an affront to all your expectations of how this could go, a firm hand touches gently on your shoulder. The stones that had begun to cluster around you fall away as you unclench your fingers and trade your fuming rage for astonishment. 

The defeated nightsister sees something in you that softens her hardened exterior. Perhaps it's the same thing that stayed your hand from taking her life a few moments ago. 

“I will see what I can do for him. Though I make no promises.” 

“Thank you.” You scrub the tears off your face with the heel of your hand and get to your feet.

“I will meet you at your ship.” Dark smokey ichor gathers and clings to the nightsister as she vanishes through an invisible veil. This time you allow her to go. After a few moments to collect yourself you starting your trek back to the Pursuit. 

When you arrive on your ship BD-1 is beyond thrilled to see you in one second and in the next he's launching himself in a tiny but potent fury at your guest. All he sees is the witch that conjured a small army of undead whose express priority was tearing you all to pieces. With highly trained reflexes you manage to catch him in mid-air, angry projectile that he is. 

“BD, no! She's here to help!” He writhes in your grasp but relents in exchange for your assurance. “Letting her try is Cal's only chance.” 

The two of you look longingly at Cal sprawled where you had left him in the middle of the floor. A second empty sedative lays discarded beside him, administered by nurse-droid BD-1. There's no visible change in the patient other than the wadded up blanket pillowed beneath his head. 

With one arm hooked around BD you use the other to reluctantly hand the crescent shaped stone to Nightsister Merrin. There is a brief moment of hesitation that dissolves when you peer at Cal, twitching in his chemically induced sleep. 

The witch's eyelids flutter shut for a split second when the skin of her fingertips make connect with the artifact, reunited. When Merrin opens her eyes again they are glowing bright green. She breathes deeply through her nose and exhales a cloud of wispy green energy. Tendrils of the stuff reach out to you. BD bats the designs out of the air like an angry cat. 

Merrin circles around Cal like a vulture above carrion. She breathes and tastes the air over Cal's face and scans her hand over his head until is zeros in on a single spot like a magnet. She sniffs the air around him like a hound on the scent and follows her nose to the angriest scar on his head.

Her voice takes on the depth and cadence of a hundred generations before her. She speaks with the authority and knowledge of every nightsister of Dathomir. The incantation is sacred gibberish in your ears though both the ship and Cal respond to it. 

The lights dim and soon all you can see is the green glow of Merrin's magic coating the scene. Spokes of light spout violently from Cal's eyes and mouth as he levitates off the ground. He looks like a shadow wearing a mask of himself. In all your debauched dreams and nightmares, Cal has never disturbed you more deeply than they way he appears now.

A cold shiver passes through you when your mind conjures an image of the dreaded Pyke torture droid you were acquainted with in captivity, in the fortress. It's yellow eyes spying with a stabbing brightness, taunting you in the dark. Shaking the thought from your head you instead pack the memory away, placing a heavy lid on the thought. Not now. 

Merrin steps underneath Cal like a mechanic under a starship, ready to get to work. 

She slaps her hand onto the side of his head and the ritual reaches a crescendo. Seeing Cal writhe in the air surrounded by swirling ichor certainly makes you wonder at the decision you've made. It's already done, there's no going back. 

Merrin lifts her free hand and out of air she conjures a shape that appears to hover over her palm. A glowing green sphere that shrinks and grows in the flex of Merrin's fingertips. Once she is satisfied with the look of it, the witch merges the ghostly orb with the side of Cal's head as one absorbs the other with ease. Her fingers close softly and sever ties with the enchantment. Cal's scar glows in a bright viridian that looks both irritated yet cool to the touch. 

After a moment the miasma fades. Cal lowers slowly to the ground and settles like puppet with cut strings. The lights return to full power and Merrin sways on her feet. You step forward tentatively but then take her arm when she nearly topples over. BD flies to Cal's side, turning his head from side to side like an inquisitive bird as he examines his friend. 

“How is he, BD?” you ask while guiding Merrin over to the Pursuit's worn out sofa. 

Some sullen wooing indicates no change. You ask Merrin with your eyes what it is you should be expecting and she understands. 

“I found something where you said. It cannot be healed or removed but I did manage to ...contain it. It is isolated within.” She wipes her forehead and leans back exhausted. “It is the best I can do.” 

“But will it work?” you ask hopelessly. 

“My magic always works. It's up to him now whether he wakes or not.” 

“How long?”

“Hours, minutes? Days? I've never done this before.” 

You accept and nod, as though there is a choice you've made.

Drained from the massive amount of energy required for the spell, Merrin sleeps soundly on the sofa. You are apparently no longer threats to one another and she feels safe enough with you to rest on your ship. You're warmed by the comforting feeling of being trusted. Since you have already passed up on the opportunity to kill her, she'd might as well get some sleep.

Meanwhile you sit cross-legged on the floor pressed close to Cal. You stare absently at his placid and unchanged face while worrying away at a thread on the cuff of your pants. The color has come back to his cheeks though he remains tired and worn looking. 

You can't understand why he isn't awake. Fighting is what Cal Kestis does. There is no battle he will step away from. How can he still be asleep when all he has to do is fight for it?

You touch his cheek and whisper his name. Nothing.

Your fingers move over his neck and down onto his chest that rises and falls with each breath. When your hand comes to rest over his heart you flatten your palm over the thump and you relish in the strength and rhythm of it like before.

You wonder about the powers and abilities you have grown since first meeting Cal. In your time with him you've seen things, done things, you never imagined were possible. You could be capable of so much more. The power you've tasted has only served to whet your appetite. If putting him to sleep with the Force is possible perhaps you can wake him. 

You sync your breaths, close your eyes and the world fades away as you say his name again, calling him forth from the dark. 

There's quiet. You think for a moment that his hand moves but he's been fidgety the entire time, it's followed by a stillness that denotes failure. 

You call after him again and though your voice does not waver doubt has seeped in. There is no answer apart from the deafening drum of your hearts. 

You feel her standing nearby, watching. For some reason you become self conscious and forgo a second attempt at your failed task. You had to try.

“He is important to you.” Nightsister Merrin's words are more a statement than a question, though she waits for your answer. 

“I don't know how or when it happened but...he is.” it feels bizarre to admit the fact to a stranger. She might never understand what's so confounding about caring for Cal Kestis. 

“I had someone- some people, that were important to me.” she hugs her elbows close and leans in the doorway. She doesn't have to say they're gone. You already know. 

“Now all I have is this place. I live in their grave” Merrin puts her unfocused gaze on Cal's prone body, unable to look you in the eye. She doesn't know why she's telling you this. Why she's still here. You spared her life, she repaid the favor. The smart thing to do would now would be to leave. Instead she continues. “My sisters will never die because I carry them with me but … I can't let him have their resting place. It is my home, even if I don't want it.” 

Malicos. You spare the thought to poison the air with the charlatan's name.

You can't pinpoint the exact moment but you've already made the decision to kill this man. He is a Jedi well and truly fallen from the creed, turned to a way of wrong-doing and harming others. A deceiver and manipulator who begs for the justice of your sword with every attempt he makes to grab at crumbs of power. Pathetic.

A wave of uneasiness passes through you as the connection in your mind is made and cannot be undone. You could be describing yourself. 

You smooth your hand over Cal's chest as though you were flattening wrinkles in his shirt and brush his the side of his face as if you were removing lint. You're different. Cal is different. The denial would be crippling if you refused to admit there are similarities but when it comes down to it, Malicos isn't like you. He may not be better or worse but he is different in a way that matters. 

“I'll help you.” you blurt without thinking. It's so sudden Merrin barely hears you. 

“You'll- you what? How?” She needs clarification.

“Don't you want him dead?” The weighty matter is so simple to you. It's difficult to imagine there was a time you would balk at the idea. There is no doubt in your mind now that the universe would be a better place without Taron Malicos in it. 

“More than anything.” Her response is immediate and vehement.

“Then that's what we'll do.” You don't understand why she looks so shocked. Isn't that what friends do? 

You stand and dust yourself all over. When is the last time you bathed or eaten? So much has been happening. You stumble over to a cabinet in the dining area nearby and rummage around until you find a plain old ration bar. Good enough. The cellophane wrapped snack hangs from your mouth as you pull on your gloves, preparing for business as usual. 

Merrin seems to have been suffering from a complete loss for words, her mouth hangs open like a trout until she summons a single syllable. 

“Why?” 

“Because he deserves it.” You say it as though nothing could be more obvious. “Because your sisters deserve it. It's for them.” 

Merrin's eyes grow big and shiny as they well with tears. She can hardly believe her good luck meeting someone like you, someone who understands. The nightsister throws her arms around your shoulders and you feel the wetness of her cheek on your neck. When she steps back you miss the contact already. 

“What about your friend?” 

“If our roles were reversed Cal would go. It would be foolish to pass up the advantages quick action would give us. He would know that the longer we wait to go after Malicos the more time he has to prepare.”

Merrin wonders to herself, and not for the first time, what kind of people she's involved herself with. She waits for you to continue as you clearly want to tell her what those advantages are. 

“When I meet him at the temple he will be expecting that you are dead and that I'm about to hand over the relic. The longer we wait to confront him the more he will come to expect that I've turned on him. We have to act now. Cal knows.” 

BD-1 steps into the room, having completed a full charge cycle, maybe his first one since arriving on Dathomir. 

“Besides, the best nurse in the galaxy will be watching over him. There's no one I trust more.” Your voice is fond and loud so that BD can hear you. The droid settles beside Cal like a loyal lapdog, agreeing with you completely. 

You're standing in the massive doorway separating the mirror of twilight from the vast and solemn interior of the Temple of Kujet. You wonder at the height of the Zeffo when you spy the intimidating statuary that lines the walls stretching into the distance of the space. Before entering you cast one final glance over your shoulder at Dathomir's wilderness.

It's growing dark and in the light of the setting sun you see a massive winged figure cross the skyline. You can almost hear the leathery flap of its wings as it glides, stretching the veil of night from one end of the sky to the other. For some reason the great beast is a comfort to you. A reminder to steel your heart for the battle to come and to have confidence in the decisions that have brought you here. 

Avenge us. The howling winds seem to say. 

Inside the temple, a daunting walkway stretches across the largest room you've ever set foot in. Vaulted archways line the walls and flank the walkway all the way down. 

On the central platform a single figure stands and waits. Malicos has forgone the drab robes that hid his health and vigor. The Malicos in your memory appeared mad and frail but the man before you is certainly able and perhaps even imposing. No matter. In your arrogance, it still hasn't occurred to you that you might be unable to best this opponent. 

“My friend, welcome home! And even sooner than I'd hoped.” Malicos raises his voice to cross the distance .

You walk slowly and confidently down the long walkway feeling a staleness in the air that leaves a tickle in the back of your throat. You breathe deep the swirling concentration of dark Force energy that is a thick veil around you. It is a cloak of confidence around your shoulders as you tread toward battle. 

“The witch?” Malicos asks wringing his hands like a cartoon villain.

“Reunited with her sisters.” You pretend at smugness as you stop a few paces from the man.

“Excellent. And you have the artifact?” 

“You're going to heal my friend with it?” The question is a warning, though you already know this dealing is fated to end a different way.

“Most assuredly.” He lies without pause.

“You can control the ichor?” You ask in your most genuine tone. 

He can't. You know it. He knows it. It's magick summoned from the deepest darkest depth of Dathomir. Only the nightsisters can harness and manipulate the malevolent energies. Your new ally has taught you as much.

“So suspicious, my wise friend. You are discerning, indeed” he lets his own mistrust slip. “It won't matter once I have the stone. The Force is a most powerful ally and it is in everything. I will be all-powerful.” There are flecks of madness in his eyes and a resolve in his tone that denotes the mania of profound belief. You've seen it before and it's no less chilling to behold this time.

Don't let him shake you. 

“You know, I'd like to be all-powerful too. I think I'll keep it.” In a single breath you are another version of yourself. Cal's favorite in fact.

The corner of Malicos' mouth twitches and he eases into an innocuous smile. You wonder if he was ever truly good, maybe when he was a Jedi or perhaps a child. Your heart senses that the darkness in him is older than the Purge, older than you.

“Ah, young one, I knew we were similar.” he says fondly. “But what will become of your sickly companion?” His voice is measured and practiced. 

“He's stronger than he looks, believe me. I'm not sure he can die at all actually.” you huff a small snicker though your tone is dry. Cal would have laughed. 

You're struck suddenly by a memory of your ex-inquisitor. Of smelling clean soap on his skin after waking to find him in bed beside you. You woke up missing a leg but instead of the pain you remember his smell. Will he ever wake up? He would tell you to focus. 

“This course of action is most unwise. Don't you see what you're throwing away? We can build something new. Something better, together.” Malicos drops a measure of pretense as he has somehow lost his leverage over you. 

“You're too late, Malicos. I've already taken one madman up on that offer.” You're smiling and clearly tickled. He doesn't understand what' funny and is becoming increasingly more aggitated by your irreverence in his company. Nothing's worse than being part of a joke from the outside.

“I'll have the relic, padawan. Do not waste your potential dying here. These are dark times. They will consume us if we do not stand with each other.”

You ignite your weapon as a response and your tenacity makes him smile. It reminds you of someone but you don't care for the comparison. 

The ex-Jedi steps back tentatively and snaps his fingers. Out of the archways on either side of you there sounds a shuffling of feet. A number of nightbrothers step into the area and align themselves as a shield wall surrounding their master. It almost pleases you to see such a clear confirmation of your shared mistrust for one another. 

“Perhaps we are too similar after all. Last chance. Join my family and I will teach you to control this power.”

“JoIn My FaMiLy AnD I WiLl TeAcH yOu To CoNtRoL tHiS pOwEr. Familiar words, Malicos!” Merrin's booming disembodied voice sounds like it's coming from every direction. 

The shock of reality sinks in. Merrin lives. Malicos' features morph as he is given to an anger you supposed he had within him but have yet to see for yourself. It's more real and genuine than all the smiles and honeyed tones he's showered upon you since first meeting, and it's far more preferable. 

Merrin materializes from the emerald mist that gathers beside you and you nonchalantly toss the stone to her. A seething network of veins have formed across Malicos' forehead that thump with rage when he sees this. 

“Dathomir will be your grave!!” He spits as one red bladed lightsaber extends from each of his hands.

Merrin responds by collapsing the stones between you and the majority of your enemies. A large portion of the walkway crumbles into the abyss of the temple bottom. 

Two nightbrothers converge on you and you deflect one attack after another. 

“Where's this guy been?” You ask the nightsister sarcastically while easily dodging the advances of the two straggler zabrak that avoided the long plummet. You dispatch them easily and send them over the edge into the dark.

Across the way Malicos fumes with rage and walks along the platform's perimeter like a caged animal.

“You have chosen death! You cannot delay the inevitable!” the furious man shouts. A crowd of nightbrothers do their best to avoid him while appearing menacing. 

Merrin's eyes light up with the flowing green power of her people and several undead nightsisters plop to the ground around you from a cluster of hanging flesh above. You hadn't even noticed the meaty sacks dangling from the walls. It chills you to know that the undead witches had been here all along. 

As the dripping corpses sway onto their feet part of you panics instinctively. Merrin places a hand on your shoulder and you lower your weapon with some difficulty as the deceased witches fall in line beside you.

“I'm only evening the odds. When you face one witch of Dathomir, you face us all.” Merrin assures you. 

The last nightsister floats above the eager and chattering bones of her undead sisters and she looks like some kind of terrible goddess. Nightmarish and glorious. 

“Prepare yourself!” She shouts to you as the stone walkway becomes whole once more and the battle can truly begin. Your nerves are alight and it electrifies your skin all over. Though you will remember this moment you know the feeling of it will not persist in your memory, so you allow yourself to indulge in the euphoria of it.

There is only the briefest pause before each side clashes one over the other as Dathomirians battle one another, nightsisters against nightbrothers. The din of the fight is deafening. Merrin struggles to raise her sisters as quickly as they are laid low. The witches are outnumbered and outmatched but they frighten the superstitious zabrak. To challenge the unead is a psychological affair, you know from experience.

You weave through the throng of bodies until Malicos stands before you. 

“I know we haven't known each other long but... I've been looking forward to this.” You have to shout to be heard above the cacophony. 

Taron looks at you with disgust and disappointment. Nothing is more tragic to a lonely Sith than wasted potential.

“Many pitiful and loathsome creatures look forward to the end. I will release you to rejoin the Force, sister.” 

Your blades lock when you throw yourself at him and sparks fly from the three colliding blades. 

You expect him to fight flashy, with grand and theatrical flurries because that's what you're used to from your enemies, but he's no inquisitor. Instead Malicos faces you with a simmering fury that puts immense force behind calculated attacks. Age has taught him to fight with both patience and passion. You have to admit it is an elegant balance. 

You lay into the old man, who's age is only showing itself through his experienced swordsmanship. Your barrages crash like waves against the wall of his guard and all you've managed to do is exhaust yourself. Your leg is feeling heavy and it keeps you from your usual sprightliness in the fray. 

Suddenly Malicos' hands come away from his raised weapons leaving them in the air to fight for themselves, which they do. His empty grasp reaches out in the Force to push you back while he's got you off guard. Gracelessly you go, tumbling over yourself.

You underestimated Taron Malicos and if you don't pick yourself up off the floor and defend yourself you'll go the way of those who have faced him before.

After months of successful hunting, dispatching evil beings across the galaxy, you have forgotten what it's like to battle another Force user. Not to mention that you've been training as one half of an unstoppable duo and daresay you've gotten used to a new level of effectiveness. You and Cal as a pair, anticipate each others moves and fill in the gaps creating one intense onslaught that few enemies can withstand.

Against your will you picture Cal lying prone on the floor of your ship. Looking weaker than you've ever seen him and your heart hurts.

Malicos will not spare a moment for your sentimentality. He calls a massive stone pillar down onto the spot where you are. Somehow you gather a semblance of yourself in time to move out of the way. The crumbled stone edifice creates a temporary barrier between you. It gives you a single moment of reprieve to look around and reassess your strategy. 

You see Merrin exhausted and dripping with sweat, bathed in the glow of her magic. The nightbrothers grow closer and closer to her as the wasted bodies of her sisters reassemble more slowly each time. 

You see the horned nightbrothers step over the fallen bodies of their comrades that lay slashed to shreds in red heaps on the ground. Men whose fear at Malicos' power is greater than their pledges and devotion to the last nightsister, to whom they had sworn. 

You raise your saber to parry Taron Malicos' precision strike. His timing is excellent. In another life you might have benefited from his instruction. He'll go to his grave never knowing that. 

The fight renews with vigor as you adjust your expectations. This will not be the grand victory your arrogance allowed you to imagine but instead you will scrape by to achieve a narrow victory. There is no question of your victory.

You gain ground on the old man and finally start feeling good about your standing in this fight, until she cries out. 

Merrin wails when a nightbrother grabs her wrist and wrenches it sharply, preparing for a killing strike. Without hesitation you reach out in the Force and yank the zabrak off his feet, though his grip barely loosens. 

“Go! Get out of here!” You yell to the witch even as Malicos closes in on you. 

“I will not.” Merrin weakly forms the words. She has exhausted her powers and is wobbling on her feet, though even in the harsh grasp of an enemy, she is not beaten. Merrin slaps her hand over the cheek of her aggressor and suddenly he is paralyzed with shock and horror. 

“I will not be undone by the likes of you, traitor.” She whispers into his contorting face.

His eyes and mouth glow in an ungodly light that Merrin breathes into her lungs like a breath of fresh air. Like an empty husk the nightbrother falls to the ground and Merrin appears temporarily restored. Unfinished with her revenge, the nightsister mutters an incantation that sounds like music in your ears.

Within seconds the same nightbrother rises to his ungainly feet and joins the remaining nightsisters to fight against his kin. You are so shocked and horrified that you very nearly forget your own opponent who cares nothing for the lives of those that die in his name. 

You extend both ends of your saber to deflect the dual-strikes of your enemy. The weapons sizzle with energy and bounce off one another at a speed that is difficult for Merrin to follow. To her you are blurs of red buzzing across a battlefield that reeks of ozone. She hears the sputter of your blades when they collide even over the screeching of her sisters and roaring of the nightbrothers.

Merrin takes a brief second she doesn't have to cradle and shake out her injured wrist until she is startled to near death by a voice sidled up beside her like a specter. 

“Just listen to that snap crackle and pop. Music to my ears.” Cal says as though he is taking in the delightful view of a countryside. 

“Atta girl. Look at her go.” He purrs. There is wonder in his voice when he spots you and in one sentence Merrin begins to understand what it is you like about him.

The ruby robed witch blinks in surprise as she catches her breath, not knowing what to expect from this new contender, though she had her fingertips in his head only a short while ago. BD-1 bounces around on his back and shoulders thrilled by the chaos. 

“Nice of you to join us.” Merrin offers lightly. Cal wrinkles his nose. There is no “us” you are apart of that he is not. 

It is clear in his face that he's displeased though Merrin can't understand why. For a split second she moves to defend herself before he speaks again. 

“I guess that makes us partners.” His voice is level and matter of fact. Not at all filled with the venom she prepared for.

Cal catches the fist of a burly nightbrother, aimed at Merrin's face, and throws him backward. The urgency of the fight resumes as the nightsister refocuses on resurrecting her fallen sisters. She watches Cal launch himself weaponless into the fray like a battle wild demon to get close to you. 

Though she cannot spare even a moment of distraction, a deep dark corner of Merrin's mind asks herself what kind of people she's allied herself with just in time for a chilling and maniacal laughter to peel out over the tumult.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who's the old man?” Cal asks.
> 
> “I am Taron Malicos! I survived the Purge. I have survived and dominated Dathomir! I will not be undone by you whelps!” Malicos answers Cal with a shout from across the battlefield.
> 
> “A Jedi?” Cal's pupils blow wide and he glows with the zeal of a child in a candy shop. Hunting Jedi stragglers was his specialty for years and old habits die hard. 
> 
> “He's no one. Dead meat. ” You growl as you pull yourself onto your feet using Cal for balance.
> 
> Your leg is throbbing painfully but instead of gingerly shifting weight to your other foot, creating a weak spot, you stomp your metal leg on the hard stone floor. The dull ache turns sharp and flies to the tip of every nerve in your body. The pain flows through you and hardens into a narrow focus that makes your weakness an asset. 
> 
> “Magnificent.” Cal whispers breathlessly while watching you don the armor of the dark side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to share this chapter! I've been planning it for a long time and I'm pretty pleased with it which happens so rarely. It's a real turning point in the story too so I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Thank you forever and always for reading, enjoying, sometimes thinking about, and/or commenting on this fic. You are loved!
> 
> !!!!Please be warned that this chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence and gore as well as mild sexual content!!!!!

Taron Malicos grits his teeth as your sabers lock in a clinch that neither one of you seem to be able to gain an inch within. The sizzle of your crossed weapons send volatile sparks spitting in every direction that burn your arms and hands. Thankfully, the hate brimming in his eyes is not a weapon in and of itself or you would be dead on the spot. 

“See, padawan? I have focus. I won't let you beat me,” he menaces in a low voice that betrays the effort of his struggle. 

“And yet you will be defeated. Surrender to the will of the Force.” You attempt your most sagacious tone of voice that only serves to stoke your opponent's fervor.

“Never!” 

The chaos surrounding your struggle is deafening and excluding it from your attentions takes no small amount of focus. Especially when you hear an all too familiar cackling peel out over the bustling combatants. It sends a bolt of bone chilling energy up your spine that you recall from the days of being hunted by the Empire, but this time it's something different. 

Your gaze flickers from your opponent's furious eyes and he capitalizes on the distraction by striking you with the hilt of his saber right above your eye. This bright white flash of pain sends you reeling but not before rocking the old man off his feet with a blast of Force energy.

In a moment of reflection you cannot spare against this enemy, you lay on your back waiting for your sight to return slowly. Pained groans from across the arena indicate that Malicos is gathering his wits as well.

The blinding light fades and is replaced with a painful thrum in your head. A stream of hot red blood drips from your brow into your ear where it collects and muffles your hearing and somehow your thoughts as well. 

A pair of black booted feet are planted in the ground on each side of your head and a figure stands over  
you that buzzes with a joyous energy that feels inappropriate but welcome. 

“Is now really the best time to be napping? Really, Y/N.” Cal tsks overhead as your blurred vision slowly reveals his radiant smile. A spattering of red mist covers his neck and face but it clearly isn't his. Your heart swells and BD-1 twitters happily from Cal's shoulder. Before you can come up with a retort his brow furrows when Malicos gains his feet. 

“Who's the old man?” 

“I am Taron Malicos! I survived the Purge. I have survived and dominated Dathomir! I will not be undone by you whelps!” Malicos answers Cal with a shout from across the battlefield.

“A Jedi?” Cal's pupils blow wide and he glows with the zeal of a child in a candy shop. Hunting Jedi stragglers was his specialty for years and old habits die hard. 

“He's no one. Dead meat. ” You growl as you pull yourself onto your feet using Cal for balance.

Your leg is throbbing painfully but instead of gingerly shifting weight to your other foot, creating a weak spot, you stomp your metal leg on the hard stone floor. The dull ache turns sharp and flies to the tip of every nerve in your body. The pain flows through you and hardens into a narrow focus that makes your weakness an asset. 

“Magnificent.” Cal whispers breathlessly while watching you don the armor of the dark side.

The battle renews with a hard shove off of Cal as the two of you take off in opposite directions in an attempt to flank Malicos on two sides. The old man is battle hardened by years in the Clone Wars and he is ready. He raises his scarred arms into the air above his head and four massive boulders levitate from the depths below. 

You narrowly dodge one and then the other while Cal, rather on brand, chooses instead to go through. His lightsaber slices through the first and a well timed Force blast creates a cloud of pebbles of the second. 

Malicos continues his barrage by arcing one lightsaber through the air in each of your directions, leaving himself weaponless. Cal counters the soaring weapon and makes a B-line towards the defenseless Malicos though no Jedi is ever unarmed and he knows this.

Perhaps tired of being addressed constantly as an old man, Malicos defies the expectations placed on him and leaps above you to grab at one of his floating weapons. Once in hand, he brings the blade down hard, leaving you enough time to lift your red bladed weapon above your head but just barely.

“I was wrong to think you could stand with me.” He prates while you struggle from the low guard.

“You have no idea,” you confirm. 

Cal hears this and doesn't enjoy the idea of this old goat propositioning you. It fills him with a rage that fuels his next attack that covers a wide range with an arcing spin. Malicos has no choice but to face him and abandon his standing over you.

Cal and Malicos become embroiled in each other. A strategic tit-for-tat lightsaber battle that seems somehow personal between the two strangers. Together they are a blur of red and a symphony of clashing weapons. You marvel for a moment to see two gifted Force users battle each other. 

Cal is fresh and eager in this fight but you feel as though you have been battling for days. Each second of respite you allow yourself results in a hard loss of adrenaline. All your limbs are heavy, to say nothing of your aching duranium leg. Hadn't you come to Dathomir for rest and recuperation? Who's idea was that? 

Green ichor concentrates in the air beside you and suddenly nightsister Merrin is there. She spills onto the ground haggard and glowing in a sheen of sweat, seemingly spent. You bend to gather her up but she clasps your arm desperately hard. 

“More coming,” she pants.

Together you turn to see the final six nightbrothers battered and bloody but whole following one another across the way. Behind them are piles of collapsed nightsister bones mixed with the strewn about corpses of fallen nightbrothers. The witch's bones writhe with magick but are unable to bring themselves together with Merrin so weakened.

The last defensive line, you stand defiantly over the collapsed Merrin as Cal and Malicos battle in a whirlwind behind you. 

You reach out into the Force to attempt a maneuver there's no way to be sure of other than to say that it feels right. As the weakened but willing zabrak approach you inhale a deep breath and exhale slowly as you pass a wave of your hand over them. Your shoulders relax with effort and you know it's working when all six stop short and do the same. One more wave of your hand accompanied with a deliberate and calm inhale ensures your hold on them. Their arms hang slack at their sides when you have their full attention. 

“You will face one another,” you command and they obey. 

“We will face one another,” They respond in unison. 

“You will close your eyes,” The Force puts a weight into your words that is too heavy for the nightbrothers to withstand. 

“We will close our eyes.” 

“You will kill the next person you see.” This command is uttered clearly and precisely so that there is no mistaking or denying it.

“We will …” several voices falter.

“You will kill the next person you see,” your voice remains calm and sure as you steady your breath and refocus your energy.

“We will kill the next person we see.” 

“Now open your eyes.” 

The nightbrothers enact their grizzly assignment when you hear Cal groan in pain and suddenly nothing else matters. 

When you turn, Cal's hand is clasped over the spot of sizzling skin on his forearm. He doubles over and hisses through his teeth, making a show of his injury. Malicos smells blood in the water and swarms your injured partner, seeking to capitalize on this opening he's given. 

You're the only one that sees the small delightful curl of Cal's lip when his enemy takes the bait he's set. Malicos falls prey to an upward strike that costs his arm, severed at the elbow. The momentum of the attack turns Malicos to face your direction and you don't hesitate to pounce. 

From a short distance away you take this chance to ensnare the man and ensure your victory. You lift him into the air using the Force and he dangles helplessly still clutching his second weapon in his only remaining hand. 

“Hold him!” Cal bellows, drunk on the scent of victory.

Like a dog whose locked its jaws in a fight Cal refuses to let go. He reaches out in the Force and grabs hold of the waning power of Taron Malicos and pulls. The old man's eyes go wide and you know of this particular agony from experience. Cal slowly curls the fingers of his raised hands and a series of muffled pops sound out from inside Malicos' chest. A gush of ruby red blood spills over his lips as his lightsaber clatters to the ground beneath him, extinguished. 

“No!” Merrin cries as she hangs off your shoulder. Cal doesn't hear her but you do. “Please let it be me.” 

You know Merrin's story, it's like yours. You know what it would mean to her to close this chapter with her own hands. It has to be her. No matter how much fun Cal is having. 

You release your grasp on Malicos and he falls to the floor like and he looks like a fish on land gasping for air. Merrin is on him in an instant and you swear she's turned from a witch into an animal they way she screeches and wails on him.

Cal's initial expression is that of a child whose toy has been stolen, the next is that of someone prepared to do something about it. 

“It's ok, let her.” You limp over to his side and place a sobering palm on his chest that helps Cal to change gears. 

The coveted stone relic, all that is left of her people's power, has gone from a magical conduit to a blunt object that serves now to bash in the head of Merrin's greatest enemy. 

“You have no right to Dathomir!! No right to our magick!” The dispossessed nightsister howls. She stops pounding when her arms give out and she can no longer lift her weapon. Her wracked breaths can't seem to accept that it's all finally over as she sits covered all over in the red blood of her enemy. 

She obviously needs a moment. 

“Well, if Malicos wasn't open minded, he is now,” you joke callously at the excessive brutality. “Cal....Cal open minded....because of his head...” 

You turn to your partner who's attention is drawn away altogether, to the far end of the temple. There is yet another massive doorway that presumably leads deeper into the temple with a small stairway leading up to it. Kujet was a fan of redundant architecture it seems. You follow his line of sight all the way back through the vastness of the temple, confused. He's gone alarmingly rigid, eyes fixed on the emptiness.

“Do you see anyone there?” His voice trembles slightly but doesn't break. 

“Where?” 

“There! You don't see a lasat?!” He shouts, unraveling. 

“There's only you and me.” You step in front of him so that you're all he can see. BD-1 trills from his perch on Cal's shoulder. “And BD-1...and Merrin over there. No lasats.” 

Cal blinks hard and tugs himself from your grasp to face the emptiness again. This time it is truly vacant though he doesn't seem comforted by that at all. Cal rubs his face and checks a third time. 

“No lasats,” he repeats to himself.

“Is your head alright? How do you feel?” you ask, worried that the ritual didn't take, worried that he's finally broken beyond repair. You run your hand over his forehead and touch your fingers to his mottled scar. 

“Mmm. Better now,” he croons. Your touch changes his mood completely. He is Cal Kestis, human lightswitch. 

Your worry ekes away slowly as he smiles at you, more himself. You lean close and run your fingertips along his jaw when Merrin clears her throat so distinctly it makes you jump. You feel Cal's hackles rise when you both turn to face the nightsister but his ire deflates like a balloon when he sees her in her blood spattered glory. Red from head to toe. 

“I want to thank you both.” Merrin's voice is calm and sober, a far cry from the feral creature that beat Malicos into a bloody pulp. “You don't know what you've done for me. For Dathomir.”

“Merrin-” you start until she raises a hand to stop you. 

“Today is over. This is over. Go, rest. I will find you again.” 

In a shimmer of brilliant green smoke Merrin is gone. Once again you and your crew are left with the dead. 

Together you, Cal and BD-1 trudge up the ramp of the Pursuit that sits where you left it gathering a substantial layer of red dust. The interior appears exactly how you left it. The wrinkled blanket that sat under Cal's head for days is strewn like a shroud across the floor. Empty cartridges of spent sedatives as well as the entire contents of the med-kit are spread around like confetti after a celebration. 

In the dining-kitchen area, cabinets have been left thrown wide exposing the empty shelves inside. Several of the light bulbs never recovered from Merrin's ritual. They blink erratically, struggling to stay lit and it makes for an eerie setting if it weren't home. 

Cal strides over to the chiller and hangs lazily on the door while he looks inside. The bright white light washes over his face, erasing some of his features as he scans the vacant shelves. He closes the door defeated holding a tube of old nutrient paste in his hand. It's cap is long lost and the goop near the opening is dried and hardened. 

BD beeps discouragingly heads into the cargo area to search the remaining supplies for spare rations, against hope.

“It looks fine to me,” he shouts at the droid's back. 

Cal wrinkles his nose at first but after his stomach growls audibly he shrugs and squirts a hearty dollop onto his tongue. You had begun unlacing your boots but halt watching him. All you can do is watch in horror as the stuff sticks to the roof of his mouth and he laps like a cow eating mud. 

“You're not even going to heat it up?” You ask with no small amount of disgust. 

“What's the point? Then it'd be hot and disgusting.” He asks sarcastically.

“It's not as bad when you add it to hot water.” You counter. 

“Ugh, it's awful.” he mutters. 

“Haven't you been through enough torture?” Your boot comes off with a good tug.

“Why did I do this?” He laughs with his mouth full. 

“I can't imagine how often you ask yourself that. ” You snicker as you make your way over to the tea kettle and begin to heat some water. Cal is rinsing his mouth under the faucet as you set two mugs on the counter and squeeze a dollop of nutrient paste into each. 

“None for me. I won't be putting myself through that again” he leans back on the table edge. 

With your back to him you bend over and search the floor for the lost cap to the tube of terrible sustenance. No luck. If you could feel the weight of Cal's eyes on you it would knock you over and yet you remain unaware. 

“I thought you were hungry.” You whirl around looking for a genuine answer but when you see how his eyes are lowered on you the thought flies from your head completely. 

“Starving.” He's watching you intensely with a roguish grin slowly spreading across his face.

You pretend not to notice but one glance at his infectious expression is all it takes to make you smile. There's a sudden and exciting energy in the air that makes the fine hairs on your arm stand up. The way he tracks your movements feels like old times but better.

He traps you in his stare and his eyes ask you a question you don't know how to respond to. You bite your lip enticingly without realizing and it's answer enough. Cal looks ready to spring into action though he remains stalk still. His taught fingers grip the lip of the table and you wonder if it will splinter under the pressure. Practicing this much restraint might actually kill him. 

The kettle sounds off in a high pitched whistle that spurs you to movement and breaks the fraught stillness between you.

“You and I. We know each other.” You break the long silence with your back to him as you fuss over the kettle and mugs. “Maybe not completely, not everything. But more than anyone else.” 

“Absolutely,” he agrees wholeheartedly, eyes alight. 

“You've changed so much from when we first met. It's like you're a different person now but some things are still true I think.” You pointedly avoid eye contact and hand him a mug. He takes it even though he doesn't want it. 

“Okaaay” he's being surprisingly patient while you circle and dance around what you really want to say. 

“You've always taken what you want. When you were an Inquisitor and even now. It's just how you are, how you've been trained.” You cup the warm mug in both hands but don't take a single sip. The heat on your fingertips is comfort enough.

“Of course. As if there's any other way.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. This already feels like a game to him so he's on board even though indirectness normally irritates him.

“Well... I know that you...want ...-” you gesture vaguely at yourself struggling to narrow in on the word you're looking for. Cal can't even begin to guess what you mean. “...me. You want me. I know you do.” 

A flame ignites in his eyes. He places the steaming mug on the table beside him and straightens. Cal's smile is devilish and much to your pleasant surprise his cheeks go a bit red. 

“Y/N, what are you asking me?” He can barely keep the amusement from his voice. 

“I'm not saying you should!” Stars above, what ARE you trying to say. “Or that I'd allow it, or that you even could. But...-” 

You stop yammering when he stands. He crosses over to you and looms in your space. Close but not touching, never touching. He's scanning your face, searching your eyes for something. Your back touches the wall and you didn't even know you had stepped back.

“You're right, I've learned a lot from you since we first met. One thing especially is that this,” he looks you up and down, before stepping even closer. His nose traces ever so slightly against your cheek as his mouth hovers close to your ear and his voice sends a shiver down your spine to the soles of your feet. “You, when freely given, are sweeter and more delicious than anything I could try and take for myself.”

The heat of his breath on your face makes you dizzy and you pull away slightly so you can look him in the eye. You feel sheepish and unsure until suddenly you don't. The memory of Cal' deceptively soft lips on yours fills you with the courage to overcome all your self-imposed boundaries just so that you can feel them again. 

“What about the things I've learned from you?” You're that girl again, the one that talks shit to Inquisitors even from The Chair, the one that hunts Imps as a calling.

In one swift motion you hook your fingers into the waist of his pants and pull him forward by the belt closing the final distance between you, meager however it was. The very tips of your fingers skim a breadth of coarse hair just below his buckle that makes him gasp and oh, you like that. 

The shock is fresh but his instincts are still second to none. Cal braces himself and saves you both from the hard thwack of your colliding foreheads by placing one hand up against the wall on either side of you. Once he overcomes the initial surprise of your forwardness his infuriatingly charming smirk reappears. 

“Don't learn things from me. I'm a bad influence.” He teases you as he waits. 

It's hard not to laugh. “You certainly are.” The sound of your chuckle makes Cal drunk with pleasure and he wets his lips. Your faces are painstakingly close, one breath passes back and forth between you and somehow he's still waiting. For something freely given, something sweet and something delicious that he could never take. 

Your patience begins to run dry as your hands slide up from his waist across his chest and rise into his hair. Cal emits a silky moan as your fingers dig in and that's the final straw. Like a woman dying of thirst you plant your lips on his and take a life-giving drink. Somehow his lips are even softer than you recall.

He is hungry and it translates directly in his kiss. All tongue and teeth, tasting and biting. You are both eager but clumsy as Cal's arms come away from the wall to wrap themselves around you. Entwined you stumble back into the table that groans as it becomes offset. You heart is hammering in your ears and you can barely hear anything else as you lean so hard into him that Cal has no choice but to plant himself up onto the displaced surface. Unwilling to part your mouths for the merest moment, you climb the furniture after him until you're straddling him on the groaning tabletop. The mug of lukewarm nutrient tea shatters on the ground, spreading ceramic shards in every direction. 

Cal makes a sad utterance when you part to look at him. You're both panting wildly and you can't help but drink in the decadent sight before you. Cal Kestis on his back and at your utter mercy. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dark and wild as he wriggles under your hands. There is a length of hardness beneath you that has him mewling like an injured beast when you adjust your seat and it makes you feel powerful. The relaxed exhilaration of euphoria begins to build in the pit of your stomach and you steady yourself with two hands on Cal's chest.

His fingers flex in the air as he is desperate to touch you but can't decide where. You decide for him. 

Taking both his hands in yours you place one on the round of your hip and slide the other beneath your shirt. Cal's breath hitches as his palm flattens between your breasts and his fingers spread out like a spider stretching its legs, over your drumming heart. It's no surprise that his and yours beat in tandem or that they skip the same beat when he hesitates.

“Y/N.” His fingers curl away from your skin beneath your clothes.

“Yes?” You reply breathless, running your hand up his arm encouragingly even though they've paused abruptly in their ministrations. 

“I...” Cal's hands drift away from you as he searches his mind for the correct words. The red flush on his cheeks and his breathlessness are doing things to you.

“What is it?” you prompt him a little harder than you mean to. 

“I've killed … so many people,” he blurts. There is a gravity in your crewmate's expression that makes you believe he understands the weight of his words, maybe for the first time. Up until this moment you weren't sure he'd ever considered the consequences of his actions. 

You slide off of him slowly to rest at his side. The kitchen table groans and wobbles but somehow continues to remain whole. The two of you stare into the bleak patch of ceiling above as your rapid breathing begins to level out and your hearts begin to steady. After taking a deep breath and exhaling through your nose a bit of tension seeps from the moment and the air feels more breathable.

“So many.” he reiterates unnecessarily. 

“I know,” you release the words with a heavy sigh. While you've drifted away from envisioning Cal the way he was, it's something you can never forget.

Obviously, you're no angel in this scenario but so far you have more fingers and toes than kills, not to mention your deceptively moral code that at times feels more than discriminate. Cal hunted Jedi as an Inquisitor for years, who knows how many lives he's taken. Not only his targets but those that got in his way, the collateral damage. 

Memories of Kashyyyk come to you unbidden. You hear the wet muffled crack of Choysyyk's skull in the Ninth Sister's mammoth grasp. You see all the wookies strung up and strewn about their encampment on the Origin tree and you try very hard to forget the smell of them. It was something worth killing her over. 

How many outposts has Cal burned for some Jedi's attention? 

“I almost-” 

killed you. 

He doesn't finish the sentence but you hear it in your mind.

“I know,” you reply blandly.

“I would've-” Cal mutters and again fails to say the words but again, they're clear to you.

killed you.

“I know.” 

“Stop saying you know!” He heats up quicker than a lit match. The coiled up passion of what led to this drama on the kitchen table translates into something angrier when it is not exercised. 

“I am ... aware though.” You try. Unfazed by his outburst, you sit up and brush a short lock of hair neatly behind his ear. It's grown so quickly since you took Cere's buzzer to his scalp on the Mantis a lifetime ago. He looks more like the red-maned Inquisitor you recall from Zeffo and Kashyyyk, several lifetimes ago. 

Cal heaves a sigh and he deflates, his anger turns to steam as he prepares to pose his final question. 

“Then why-” he shakes his head and loses the words then decides those two are enough.

“Because that's not you. Not anymore,” you state firmly. It's not forgiveness but acceptance that colors your responses.

Cal looks at you with a wet eye and a subtle expression that reads as he doesn't believe you, even if he wants to. He shakes his head stubbornly and it dislodges a surmounting tear. He will always be the Empire's tool. 

He needs more. He needs a real answer that he'll believe. 

“...Because you're mine now and because I say so.” As the words leave your lips your heart grows heavy though there is no arguing that you mean them. You lift your hand to cup the side of his face and Cal leans into your palm as though the spot had never been touched in his life.

A wave of guilt passes through you as another strand that tethers you to the Jedi Order snaps without ceremony. It hurts every time but by now you are accustomed to the pain. What would ache in the beginning is now only a discomfort. 

You hear the voice of your Jedi Master in your head say “A Jedi owns nothing. Even your own weapon and the hand that wields it belong to the people you protect. All attachment, material or otherwise ends in the dark. For when we fear to lose what is ours there is no cost we will not pay to keep it.”

You slam a lid on the thought and stack away in your mind with others. Not now. Maybe never. 

“Hey,” you grab Cal's chin between two fingers and bring him close enough so that your noses touch. “And I'm yours, ok? I am. We're each others'.” You're still trying to convince him.

The conviction in your voice is grave and so it's surprising to hear when Cal chuckles. He touches his forehead to yours affectionately as his laughter subsides though his wide handsome smile never leaves. Your blink in confusion feeling somehow left out of the moment you were just a part of as Cal passes the pad of his thumb lovingly over your cheek.

“Oh, gorgeous, that's what I've been saying this entire time.”


End file.
